Slice o' Life for 99 cents
Jan 16-22, 1998

What is preventing the masses from revolting? What is revolting to the masses? In the spirit of all-pervasive, post-modern irony, it's the same damn thing: pizza by the slice.

Let's start with a poorly researched history lesson. Before the Roman Empire went the way of the Rubik cube, the government jammed on the opulence jake-brake long enough to realize that they'd have to buy off the populace or they'd lose the fabulous babes and the decadent lifestyle p.d.q. So they gave their citizens bread and circuses. The free grub, coupled with their "the only good Christian is a dead Christian" mentality kept the empire together until late in the fourth quarter, when, with only two minutes remaining, the Huns sacked Rome.

"So what?" I can hear you say. "We've learned from the past. We'd see through such a blatant manipulation of the public will in a second."

Is that so gentle reader? I have bad news. We now have pizza and spectacle. For those of you who missed the Chomsky bandwagon, allow me to explain. Dr. Noam suggests that the Christian chomping has been replaced with professional sports, Friends and the Spice Girls. One might go so far as to suggest the democracy itself is a type of spectacle, where the best media-ated, spin-doctored meat puppet wins our support for another four years of broken promises, lies and scandal. One might go even further and suggest that since the post-Carter era, government has tried to save money by becoming a circus).

The pint of the above paragraph, besides proving that I went to university, is that we're no better off than the Romans. In fact, since we decided to stop lion-izing Christians, I think we're worse off. We dutifully consume infotainment soma and heat-lamped pizza designed to take the edge off modern life in a way that only Dilbert can equal.

And apparently Vancouver is about to be sacked too, since our pizza is comparatively cheap when set against other hot spots of North American unease.

I Work Hard For Da Money
Sexy, cancer stick suckin', poutine chomping Montreal -- where rent is cheap and the cost of living makes Vancouver look like New York -- has failed in the pizza department.

Sure, their clubs stay open until three, and you can buy liquor at the depenuer (literally translated, the store of corner) but their pizza is tres cher. They pull the classic bait and switch manoeuvre -- yer plain jane cheese slice is $0.99, all other average $1.70 if you want items that resemble vegetables or meat.

Toronto, in keeping with its slick, metropolitan image also charges similar, if not higher pizza rates. Even in LA, land of the free, the riot prone and the gridlocked, the pizza ain't cheap, despite the lower minimum wage. They can sell a Whopper for a buck, but pizza? Forget it.

So, now we turn the magnifying glass into a mirror and ask...

You Say You Want a Revolution Baby?
When I think back to 1994, I seem to remember pizza by the slice hovering at the $1.50 mark. In a few short years came the $.99, the $.93, and recently (though temporarily) the $.88 slice. This is madness. This is not a gas war, where product quality remains consistent, but the price drops. This situation rests on a rather delicate philosophical and economical teeter totter. Do we, as a people, want better pizza, or cheaper pizza?

It would appear the latter. But are our standards really that low? Is this the same city that A Current Affair declared to lay claim to the best looking prostitutes in North America? Have we no agreed upon community standards when it comes to food?

Sure we do. So I'd like to posit another option: instead of Vancouver being completely backward, we are so far ahead of our time we haven't realized it yet.

History is Written by Winners... Usually
How about this particular figure/ground paradigm shift: the undercutting of quality for price is a historical inevitability. Dig brothers and sisters: the proletariat, enslaved by the bourgeoisie, is angry. As the gap between rich and poor widens, something has to give. In this case, it is the price of pizza. In this way, office workers can still barely afford to treat themselves (and perhaps, and I stress perhaps, gain valuable nourishment so as to keep toiling for their corporate masters) and thus keep their hard-brained schemes for "unionization" and "dignity" under their hats.

Credit Where Credit is Due
Despite my negative tone, I do admire the creative nature involved in shattering the price barrier. Specifically, I refer to the unsung hero(s)/heroine(s)/heroin addict(s) who realized that even a laser couldn't slice ham thin enough to tow the profit margin and instead developed the rice sized chucks of pig that comfortable nestle beside their pineapple buddies.

The second innovation, one that I'm less enthralled with, is the use of cubic zirconia mozzarella. I don't like tits or cheese to be fake. (I'll assume I lost our substantial gray-work-socks-and-birkenstocks vegan readership long ago, so hopefully I'm preaching to the converted here). The ham is a minor issue. But syntho-cheese -- or whatever you call that melted substance that oozes off my dough -- is nastier than I want it to be. But what can I do but grin and bear it? After all, it's progress. It's historically inevitable. And thus, it must be in my best interests.

Solutions?
So what's to be done? More expensive pizza will surely mean a worker uprising. And with Seinfeld calling it quits, the spectacle industry is taking it on the chin. So in the interests of avoiding worker chaos, I'll grin and bear it.

I conclude by tipping by hat to those underpaid, underappreciated pizza jockeys who keep our social, economic and political system afloat. Without you, there would be anarchy in the streets and less spare change in our pockets.